Curiouser and curiouser
I resist the 'what is it now!' message that bubbles up through my brain. I try very hard to replace it with 'humble gratefulness for the power of speech.'
I am irritable. [translation = more than my ambient state of grumpy] He stands four feet below me, semi clad clutching the toilet plunger. “What I am?” he demands. What realm of existentialism are we branching off into? I peer at him through wonky bifocals as I teeter on the top of the ladder.
“Er you're a boy dear.” I shove one box to the back of the cupboard and pull out the next one.
“No! What I am?” Saints preserve us! What is he on about now? I shove my glasses up my nose, as when you are close to the ceiling in California, the temperature is nearer 100 than an ambient 90 degrees. The heat in my head is offset by the icepack on my chin, because autism doesn't exist in a vacuum. [translation = dental woes]
“What it is?”
“What is what dear?” If I drop a box on him by accident I will never forgive myself. I wedge the box for safety purposes and curse the idiot who designed this kitchen.
“What it is 'peculiar'?” I pause, suppress a sigh and wonder who I am going to have to hunt down and “do away with” this time? Why are people so quick to judge and condemn?
“'Peculiar' is odd, or strange, or different.”
“I am odd or strange or different?” It's not echolalic as he has changed the tone to a question. I am rapidly going off that Amendment. [translation = freedom of expression]
“Who told you that you were peculiar dear?” Why are people so quick to draw dubious conclusions?
“No, it was dah lady.”
“What woman dear?” I can tell that my milk of human kindness begins to curdle. Why are people so negative, always willing to assume the worst?
“Dah lady in dah store.”
“What woman in the store?” Maybe at the cheese counter? Why are people always ready to cast aspersions?
“Dah lady in dah store when I be having dah meltdown.”
Whilst in theory there should be sufficient information for me to be able to narrow down the field of options, unfortunately, meltdowns in store are still a frequent occurrence.
“Well, never mind what other people say or think! They don't know you one jot, nor what they're talking about!” I snap. Some people should just mind their own business. [translation = rancid Stilton]
“Not me.”
“Pardon?”
“Not me……..er……you.”
“Me? I am peculiar?”
“Yes. Dat is what dah lady is said, er……in dah store……when I be having dah meltdown.”
Ah. So quick! Fancy him noticing that! Fancy him choosing this moment to relate the incident to me that must have been percolating away for more than a week.
“Well of course in that case,……..everyone is entitled to their own opinion, the lady was probably quite right.” How astute, I permit the Amendment to stand. [translation = by Royal Decree]
August 8th, 2007 at 12:49 am
Wow! I’ve just been reading back over some of your posts: they’re amazing. I had no idea, and I cannot really imagine what your life must be like, but you describe it so brilliantly, giving an incredible insight into autism. You should make this into a book: have you considered that? Such a day-to-day record – clear, heart-breaking and amusing – would be invaluable to many, I’m sure.
August 8th, 2007 at 2:55 am
Kids are so observant. They don’t miss a thing!
August 8th, 2007 at 3:44 am
BTW, good article on girls w/ autism in the Washington Post: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/05/magazine/05autism-t.html
Your conversations in the dialect are reminiscent of Old South with your son. You capture the moments.
How hard are food issues!!! You seem so patient and your gems and moments so readable.
August 8th, 2007 at 5:50 am
A friend once told me that the key isn’t to NOT be weird. The key is just to be the GOOD kind of weird.
Having a son on the spectrum has helped me recognize my own peculiarities (of which there are many). We’ve learned together that “normal” is a spectrum disorder too with variable symptoms and a wide array of differing presentations. This has led us to the knowledge that labels hold no value (beyond qualifying for services). “Autistic” doesn’t encapsulate who my son is any more than “fat” or “bald” fully describe me (I won’t argue “peculiar” though – hehe).
PS. Dr. Stanley Greenspan (father of “Floortime”) has developed a new diagnostic manual (DMIC – Diagnostic Manual for Infancy and Early Childhood) that provides more individualized diagnoses than what has been previously available to clinicians.
August 8th, 2007 at 8:30 am
oh, I love that word, “peculiar.” I am apparently referenced tha way a lot, too. I take it as a compliment. What fun is being like everyone else? It’s not like they are having a lot of fun, after all.
I think I’ll add it to my list of words to perseverate on this week. Llama. Mukluks. Peculiar. Lovely!!!
August 8th, 2007 at 8:36 am
Ah, the world of an autism parent. Decoding, interpreting, and then feeling relief when we finally succeed — even if it reveals that someone thought we ourselves were, um, unusual.
August 8th, 2007 at 8:42 am
Who wants to be ordinary? The thing I like best about Harry Potter is the idea that those of us who aren’t ordinary are the magical ones. Your story reminded me of lines from songs from my birthday post, “She is something altogether different, never just an ordinary girl” Counting Crows. “People say she’s crazy but she just don’t care.” Shawn Mullins.
Thanks for sharing. Sticking together will help all of us feel more sane. “Who wants to be ordinary in a crazy mixed-up world?” Michelle Branch.
August 8th, 2007 at 12:07 pm
Oh my. The irony!
August 8th, 2007 at 2:25 pm
Just love it! So he was having “dah meltdown” and paying close attention to his surroundings too? Good for him. Er, could it be that some of you rubbed off on him or the other way round? Please keep on being peculiar and bring us all a breath of fresh air. Your kids are irresistible.
August 8th, 2007 at 3:42 pm
He’s a multi-tasker! Meltdowns and observations, all at the same time.
PS There is nothing wrong with peculiar, in my mind.
August 8th, 2007 at 4:22 pm
[translation = by Royal Decree]
That cracked me up. Good luck and god bless. Kids do ask a lot of questions and sometimes it takes some pretty heavy drinking to cope with it all.
August 8th, 2007 at 4:36 pm
I hate it when I think my kids are being insulted and it’s really me! Good for you for having a sense of humor, although, having read through your past posts I don’t see how you could have survived this far without one.
Thanks for visiting my blog. I’ll be back here for sure!
August 8th, 2007 at 4:45 pm
I love to see that brand of intellect working so keenly to figure out the world. He reminds me at times of my own son!
August 8th, 2007 at 5:28 pm
Halu there. And here I immediately thought “He’s SUPER MARIO” when he asked “What I am?” and he was holding the toilet plunger (you know then his bro could be Luigi and sister can be Princess Peach–)
Anyway, I hope your swelling gums/jaw/mouth subside soon and become less painful (or cause you no more pain).
Have a good day.
Ails
August 8th, 2007 at 5:47 pm
nope, nothing wrong with peculiar–we live it each and every day and it is our normal.
August 8th, 2007 at 6:11 pm
You really capture the moment ! I can just imagine the conversation and you son, wondering. I’m sure you’re a great mom.
August 8th, 2007 at 7:04 pm
Amazing what he took from the situation. I say more power to you … an “ordinary” person could never have the strength, love and talent you do.
August 9th, 2007 at 12:29 am
Out of the mouths of babes.
August 9th, 2007 at 10:15 am
He caught that while in the middle of a melt down? Wow… I can’t hear anything or anyone when Little Bug melts…
August 9th, 2007 at 10:02 pm
I get the biggest kick out of things the kids say. Your son is absolutely gorgeous…love the photo!
August 10th, 2007 at 6:09 am
How wonderful that you are not normal (and thank God!). You are your own unique brand of peculiar (from your writing that is marvelously obvious). So I agree with Joeymom, and say… drink it in as a compliment. If I ever get accused of normal I know it is time to roll over and die.